


and in every universe

by lupa_lupena



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universes, F/M, Fem!richie, Gen, Lucky Seven - Freeform, M/M, Rule 63, The Losers Club, Trigger Warning: Mental Illness, after all - parallel universes!! the possibilities are endless!!, and angst (but not too much either), because Richie Tozier that's why, but not too much (bc fuck pennywise man), crossover: harry potter, don't worry the deaths don't really stick, everyone lives!, our babies deserve to be happy, spoilers for It: Chapter Two, there is fluff, there's lots of profanity okay, tiny glimpses of pennywise here and there, trigger warning: abusive parents, trigger warning: school shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupa_lupena/pseuds/lupa_lupena
Summary: “Maybe there aren’t any such things as good friends or bad friends. Only people you want, need to be with; people who build their houses in your heart.”- Stephen King, ITAKA the ten times that Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak find each other, over and over again.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	and in every universe

**Author's Note:**

> A little pit stop before you go on your way: the following 'fic is the product of several scenes I've always wanted to write, but never could because I couldn't connect them all in one story. Hence the multiple universes idea! Hopefully, I've managed to churn out something you guys will enjoy, and these plot bunnies will finally stop bouncing around my skull at three am, whispering "Write me!" over and over again.
> 
> Your creative criticisms, kudos, thoughts, and whatnot will most definitely be appreciated!~ leave one (or all of them) below to make a sleep-deprived potato very happy indeed.
> 
> Happy reading!

**_“Maybe there aren’t any such things as good friends or bad friends. Only people you want, need to be with; people who build their houses in your heart.”_ **

_\- Stephen King, IT_

*****

**i.**

“Oi, Eddie!” Mike Hanlon calls from the other end of the café. He’s clutching their only broom in his hands like a weapon, a wide grin splitting his flour-streaked face in two. “It’s your boy!”

“He is _not_ my – oh. Hi! Welcome to Gray’s Grounds. What can I get you today?”

It’s been a month since Richie Tozier first walked through the café’s doors, a month since he rattled off the most ridiculous request Eddie has ever heard (large hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, extra chocolate and cinnamon flakes, with exactly half a shot of espresso for that extra _zip_ ), a month since Eddie laid eyes on him and fell ridiculously head-over-heels in love (Mike’s words, not his).

And yet – Eddie can't deny the way his stomach still swoops when Richie appears sometime around three pm everyday, book bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder. Sometimes, he stays to study and Eddie actually grows a pair to walk over and say _hey, how’re classes going, Dostoyevsky’s a fucking bitch, see you around_ ; sometimes, he takes his order to go, and Mikey spends the rest of the day teasing him about how much he pines.

(He absolutely does _not_.)

Today, he hopes it’s the former.

“Hey, Eds.” Richie gives him a tired smile. “Can I just get it to go today? I’ve got three papers to write, and they’re all due tomorrow.”

Eddie tries not to let his disappointment show too much. “Oh. Okay. Is that all?” he asks, more out of habit than anything else.

“Yeah, yeah, uh …”

He pauses for so long that Eddie looks up halfway through scribbling Richie’s name on the side of his cup. Richie is staring at the counter between them, chewing on his lip. It’s a nervous habit, and Eddie kinda wants to facepalm because knowing that for a _fact_ just means he really has been watching Richie for some time now. 

“Could you, uh, that is … _wouldyouwanttogooutwithmeonFridayifyou’refree_?”

Eddie blinks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that?”

“Ugh.” Mike hops over the counter, taking the cup out of Eddie’s hands. “He said ‘would you want to go out with me on Friday if you’re free?’”

Richie flushes, the pink on his nose spreading to his cheeks. He’s grinning, though. A huge one that clearly conveys how relieved he is.

“Way to steal a guy’s thunder, Michael. Well, um, there you go, Eds. Ball’s in your court.”

Eddie’s head is kind of spinning. How had his afternoon done a complete and utter one-eighty in the span of ten minutes? He’s gaping now, and belatedly, he realizes that he still needs to give Richie an answer.

“No.”

Richie’s face falls.

“I mean,” Eddie hurriedly tries to amend, “I-I-I’m not free. On Friday, that is. I’ve got an all-day shift then because Mikey needs to visit his grandpa. But I’d happily go out with you on any other day of the year if the request still stands?”

And just like that, the face-splitting grin is back, Eddie’s face breaking into a smile as well because it’s just _that_ infectious.

“Here you go, Richie,” Mikey says, handing him his cup. “I wrote Eddie’s number on the side because I figured he’d be too caught up in your eyes to remember.”

The back-handed comment doesn’t even bother him. Instead, he grabs a napkin from the stack near the steamer and hurriedly jots his dorm address down.

“You can, uh, pick me up from there,” he says. “Is Saturday good?”

Richie takes his order with one hand and tucks the napkin away carefully. “Saturday sounds perfect.”

**ii.**

In this universe, Richie Tozier loses his whole family at seventeen.

None of his relatives want anything to do with him. Not after the way Wentworth and Maggie went. The case workers find it hard to be around him as well. He’s extremely talented at burrowing under their skin, reading flaws they didn’t even know they had by the way they take their coffee or tie their shoelaces.

The judge can’t convict him, not without any concrete proof, and he isn’t even legal yet, so they do the next best thing and ship him off to a ‘facility' instead. 

Richie knows for a fact that it’s simply a nicer way of saying ‘mental hospital.’

They find the nicest (read: _farthest_ ) one his parents’ money can afford, and drop him there without so much as a by-your-leave.

On his first day, he meets Tom Rogan, the warden, and hates him on sight. He shoves Richie into his room as roughly as possible, smirking unpleasantly, as if to say _what you gonna do about it_ , knowing fully well that Richie can’t fight back.

He’s just about to flip the man off when a quiet voice speaks up from behind.

“Why are you here?”

Richie turns. A boy with mismatched socks is sitting on the bunk closest to the window. He’s reading a paperback that looks like it’s seen better days, but when he sees Richie staring at him, he marks his place and sets it aside. 

“Excuse me?”

The boy rolls his eyes and clambers down the ladder. “I mean, what did you _do_? You must’ve done something pretty shitty to be in here with me.”

Oh. Of course. Richie’s ears turn red, which he ignores in favor of standing up straighter. He’s grown six inches since his last birthday, but even without the growth spurt, he figures he’d still be a good foot or so taller than his new roommate, who is so fucking _tiny_ that he only comes up to Richie’s chest.

The way he holds himself, however, is so cocky that Richie finds himself feeling like the smaller one. There’s a smirk on his face that matches his stance, and Richie is so attracted to this boy, he can barely breathe.

“Why are _you_ in here?” Richie throws back, wanting to regain the upper hand. “Did you go see an R-16 film when you weren’t supposed to or something?”

The boy’s dark eyes narrow. “I’m _seventeen_ , jackass. And I murdered my mom.”

It’s the way he says it – so nonchalantly, so _factual_ – that causes Richie’s composed mask to break.

“Are you serious?”

“Hacked her into bits and buried her all over our front lawn,” he goes on, as if he hadn’t heard Richie’s question. “I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if only the Wheelers’ dog hadn’t found her foot.”

“I burnt down my parents’ mansion,” Richie blurts out, wanting to impress him for some reason. “I burnt it all, and them with it.”

The boy tilts his head to the side, revealing an expanse of pale skin that makes Richie's mouth go dry from how much he wants to leave more than a mark.

“Cool. My name’s Eddie Kaspbrak.”

He holds his hand out for Richie to take, and when he does, he has to suppress the urge to shiver at the way Eddie’s skin slides against his.

“Richie Tozier.”

Eddie grins then, baring his tiny, sharp teeth. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together, Richie Tozier. Just you wait.”

**iii.**

As of March 21st, 2016, Eddie has saved Richie Tozier’s life for the twenty-seventh time. It’s amazing, really, how many scraps his best-friend-slash-roommate can get into, but considering his career choice as a reporter, Eddie isn’t even surprised.

“You again, huh?” he says, voice slightly muffled by his mask.

Richie flashes him a grin, wild curls all over the place from their brief flight. “Hey! You remember me!”

Eddie rolls his eyes before remembering that Richie can’t see his face.

“A guy like you getting into every possible disaster I could save somebody from? Please. How could I not?”

“I knew I was your favorite,” he says, clambering out of Eddie’s arms and onto the concrete rooftop floor. “Well, until next time, I guess.”

“ _Next time_?” Eddie repeats incredulously. “You really do have a death wish, don’t you?”

Richie shrugs. “If it means I’ll keep seeing you around, then why not, eh?”

Before Eddie can respond, Richie rolls his mask up halfway, takes Eddie’s face into his hands, and kisses him softly on the mouth. It’s nothing simple, just a quick press of lips, but to Eddie, who has been in love with him since childhood, it means the _world_.

“See you around, Eds,” he whispers against Eddie's skin, and when Eddie begins to splutter that that isn’t his name, Richie laughs, kissing him again, longer this time. “Don’t worry, _Blizzard_. I’ll see you in the dorm.”

And just like that, he walks off, checking his camera for damage. Eddie doesn’t understand why he still insists on using film when everyone and their mother used an iPhone nowadays, but then again, one could probably spend their entire life knowing Richie Tozier and never quite comprehend his entire being.

With a smile, Eddie tugs his mask back down and free-falls off the building, only catching himself at the very last second for the thrill of it.

He’s got work to do.

**iv.**

It’s only been a full five minutes since class began, but Richie is bored out of his mind already. He shifts his books to the side with a sigh and plops his chin onto his arms. When McPhearson turns her back, he sticks first one earphone, then the other in. Calpurnia’s low, drawling tones fill his ears at once, and Richie feels the tense muscles in his back relax.

History would definitely pass much faster now.

His eyelids start to droop halfway through the song, and Richie almost lets them, but he shoots up like a shot when Stan’s bony elbow digs into his ribs. He throws the other boy a dirty look, but Stan simply rolls his eyes and motions for Richie to pull out his earphones.

“What the fuck, dude?” he hisses.

Stanley simply hurls a balled-up quiz at his face, the _jerk_. “Eyes up front, dumbass.”

Richie is about to tell him to fuck off when McPhearson’s voice goes even higher, announcing to the class at large that they’ve got a new student.

Huh. Interesting. Derry never got new students at this time of the year.

He straightens up and takes in the new kid. If he hadn’t been in their classroom, Richie would’ve assumed the guy was an eighth-grader, he’s so fucking _short._ The poor guy is clearly uncomfortable, standing there like something on display.

His large brown eyes rove around the classroom, never pausing on one face for long, before finally coming to rest on Richie’s. When the new kid catches his gaze, he goes so red that Richie half-expects steam to start billowing out of his ears. Richie smirks and leans forward, even more invested than before.

“Quit it,” Stan murmurs beside him.

“What?”

“You’re scaring him, and he hasn’t even said two words yet.”

Before Richie can reply, McPhearson asks the new kid to introduce himself, and he does, in a rich, low voice that doesn’t fit his height at all.

“Hi. I’m Eddie Kaspbrak. I’m, uh, sixteen years old, and the reason I’m only in school now is because I was … sick,” he finishes uncertainly.

Richie raises his hand obnoxiously, ignoring the way Stan looks skyward and murmurs _so help me_ under his breath. “What kind of sick?”

“It’s a long story,” he says, brows furrowing together.

“Well, we’d love to hear it,” Richie replies, giving him the best shit-eating grin he can muster.

“There’ll be enough time for questions after class,” McPhearson butts in, and he’s suddenly reminded of how much he hates her fucking class. “Take your seat beside Mr. Tozier, Mr. Kaspbrak. We're currently on page 272."

Eddie plops into the desk next to his, studiously avoiding his gaze as he pulls out his textbook. Suddenly, Richie feels like the world’s biggest turd.

“Hey.” He taps the boy softly. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. My name’s Richie.”

“’S’alright. I’m … well, you already know.”

“Quiet!” McPhearson bellows and Richie’s head snaps to the front. “Now, as I was saying …”

Halfway through the period, Eddie slides an origami turtle onto his desk. It’s the first of many for the months to come, and many years later, when they’ve moved into a house of their own, Richie pulls out an entire box of them and tips it onto their bed.

“You saved _all_ of them?” Eddie says, looking over each one with something like awe on his face.

Richie throws himself onto the covers, causing a few to spill onto the floor.

“Well, of course, Eddie Spaghetti. They were your way of telling me you liked me, weren’t they?”

Eddie’s face goes red immediately, just as it has for the last twenty-seven years. “I – I – you …” he splutters, jumping onto Richie when he starts to laugh. “You fucking _bastard_ , Tozier! You _knew_ this entire time, and you made me squirm for _two fucking years_ – “

Richie catches his fists with his hands. “Stan had to spell it out for me, too, dumbass.”

“Huh. So I guess we were both pretty thick, weren’t we?” Eddie says, falling onto Richie with a huff. His chin is digging into Richie’s chest, and he’s pretty sure they’re squishing most of the turtles, but he takes one look at Eddie’s face – his _husband’s_ face – and decides to worry about it later.

“Yup,” he replies, popping the ‘p’. “I don’t not love you for it, though.”

Eddie laughs, recalling how Richie had responded to him when he’d finally gathered the courage to confess.

“I don’t not love you, too, I guess.”

They don’t move for another half hour.

**v.**

In this universe, Wentworth Tozier is a general who drags his family wherever he’s stationed. As a result, Richie Tozier does not know Eddie Kaspbrak in this universe. He meets a nice boy named Bill Denbrough instead. They’re inseparable, up until the moment Wentworth is stationed in Paraguay, and they pack their bags for the umpteenth time.

“W-w-write to me a-a-as soon as you l-l-land, okay?” Bill says through the window of their rented SUV.

Richie tries for a smile, and comes up short. “Don’t get all mushy on me now, Big Bill.”

And just because it’s the last time he’ll probably ever see him, Richie leans out the window and gives Bill a hasty kiss on the mouth. Bill jerks away, as if Richie has slapped him, and for a moment, Richie worries he’s just lost the only friend he’s ever made in the last fifteen years of his life.

Instead, Bill grins wide and ruffles his hair. “S-s-see you around, T-t-trashmouth.”

A week later, his family is dragged out in the middle of the night by men speaking a language he doesn’t understand. Everything is blurry; he’d left his glasses on the nightstand in his haste.

“Dad!” he yells. “Dad, what’s happening?”

His father doesn’t answer. Wentworth Tozier is dead. Maggie is screaming, telling them that she’ll _do anything, please don’t hurt my boy_ , and then they’re dragging him away from her, too, and Richie feels the cool metal of a gun pressing into his forehead.

_Wait_ , he wants to yell. _Wait, I haven’t written to Bill yet!_

The man’s finger hooks around the trigger and Richie falls back onto the floor, eyes unseeing.

**vi.**

“Today, we will be learning about the Patronus charm,” Professor Lupin announces to the class, and the entire room breaks into excited buzzing at once.

They have been speculating about this particular lesson since the start of term, when the professor had handed out their syllabuses, and now, it's here at last.

Since then, it has become something of a daily topic for the seventh-years to trade guesses as to what their Patronuses would turn out to be, ranging from the normal (Eddie had heard Beverly Marsh tell Ben Hanscom one day how she hoped hers would be a horse) to the downright absurd (“Mine’ll be a fucking _dragon_ , you’ll see,” Richie Tozier had announced to anyone who would listen).

Eddie has been looking forward to it himself, but instead of chattering like his classmates, he bends over his parchment and dutifully scribbles out notes regarding the charm’s history and usage. He knows all of this already, having researched his classes in advance, but a little extra knowledge surely wouldn’t hurt.

When Lupin is done discussing, he waves his wand and their desks fly to the side at once. He orders them to face the board in one straight line, and for some reason, Eddie finds himself between his Housemate, Stanley Uris, and Mike Hanlon, a shy Gryffindor Eddie has never really spoken to.

“Now, I want you all to take out your wands – very funny, Mr. Tozier, put that thing back in your pants _now_ – and think of the happiest memory you have. Go on, then. Anything at all.”

He feels Mike move down the line out of the corner of his eye, and he’s just about to ask him why, when he sees the reason towering over him with that god-forsaken smirk on his face.

“What you thinking about, Eddie Spaghetti? Our wedding?”

Eddie groans and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Already, he can feel a migraine building.

“Oh, fuck off, Tozier,” he mutters darkly.

The Boy-Who-Lived whistles lowly. “You kiss Mummy with that mouth? I mean, _I_ know I kiss filthily, but I’m quite sure your mum likes it.”

By this point, Eddie’s pretty immune to Richie’s taunts about his mother and opts to shut him out instead, refocusing his brain on searching for any happy memory he can think of.

_The day I got my Hogwarts letter seems good enough_ , he thinks, and he holds onto it, tries to remember how warm and happy he’d felt when Professor McGonagall had shown up at his house and told him he was _special_ , at last.

“Of course, since this is Defense and half your grades are based on practicum, we’ll have to actually _employ_ your skills against something, don’t we?” Professor Lupin asks again, wiggling his eyebrows. Summoning a cluster of ancient-looking chests from his office, they land with dusty thuds a few feet away from the class. “But since you’re all students, I’ve decided to go rather easy on you. Inside these chests are objects I’ve enchanted to look – and feel – like Dementors. Of course, we all know what a Dementor is, do we not?”

They respond quickly, eager to move the lesson along.

“I’d be ashamed if you didn’t.” The Professor gives them a warm smile. “Now, pick a chest. On the count of three, I will open them at the same time, and I want you all to hold onto that very special memory, and do the charm just like we’ve discussed, yes?”

Eddie raises his wand.

“One.”

_Letter. Mcgonagall. Special. Magic._

“Two.”

He sees Richie fidgeting a few chests away.

“Three.”

After seven years of (less than peaceful) cohabitation, Eddie would like to think he knows Richie Tozier well enough to know that something is wrong. But then the Professor is saying _Alohomora Maxima_ , and the chests are whooshing open, and Eddie barely has enough time to concentrate on the fact that there’s an actual _soul-sucking_ monster looming over him.

He tightens his grip on his wand. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” he chants, voice shaking only a bit, and he actually manages to conjure a wispy ball of light that holds for a good five minutes. It’s enough to drive the fake-Dementor off anyway, and it shrinks back into the chest.

Eddie promptly slams the lid shut, breathing heavily. He’s _done_ it! A non-corporeal one, yes, but a Patronus all the same. Looking around the room, he sees his classmates still struggling with theirs, and the pride in his chest at having finished first expands.

Professor Lupin claps him heartily on the shoulder, handing him a thick slab of chocolate. “Well done, Mr. Kaspbrak. Fifty points to Ravenclaw.”

Before he can take it, however, there’s a shout from the other end of the room. Richie Tozier is on his back, the Dementor hovering over him, and Richie is thrashing around the floor, yelling for his mother to run because someone is coming to kill them all.

Eddie doesn’t even think twice.

Impulsively, he runs, pushing past Professor Lupin and his classmates, and throws himself in its way. The wretched creature turns onto him, and Eddie raises his wand, yelling “ _Expecto Patronum!”_ for the second time that day. To his surprise, a silvery jackrabbit explodes from the end of his wand, and the Dementor recoils.

Eddie presses the creature into the chest, not stopping until it’s well in the corners and his jackrabbit has almost faded.

Ben Hanscom slams the lid shut for him, sitting on it for good measure as he does up the locks with his wand. 

"That was brilliant, Eddie. You were brilliant," the Gryffindor says, but he's quite pale in the face as well from wrangling with his own Dementor.

Professor Lupin hands them a bar of chocolate each and conjures more slabs for the rest of the class. Despite their collective groans, he announces that they are done for the day. As a little incentive, he doesn't even give them homework for the weekend, which raises everyone's spirits, indeed. 

Everyone, except Eddie. 

He can barely hear all of them over the blood thundering in his ears.

He turns to Richie instead, still on his back and staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes. His lightning bolt scar peeks through his perpetually messy curls, and Eddie just _knows_ it’s throbbing again from the way Richie’s nose is all scrunched up.

“Nice … going, Spaghetti Man,” Richie pants as Mike and Professor Lupin sit him up, and haul him to the infirmary for inspection.

It’s only much later, alone in his dormitory, Stan snoring in the bunk next to his, that Eddie realizes what memory he’d been thinking of when he'd cast the Patronus: the two of them on a broomstick, seeing Hogwarts in her full glory at midnight, Eddie yelping when Richie had flown too low over the Black Lake and their shins had skimmed the cold surface, and later, much later, as he ranted about getting sick and sopping socks on the relative safety of the Quidditch Pitch, Richie Tozier had pulled him in by the hem of his sweater mid-sentence and kissed him full on the mouth, holding his face gently between his calloused palms.

Eddie takes a deep breath, gathers up his ~~courage~~ notes for the classes Richie had missed that day, and heads to the infirmary. It’s about time they talked anyway.

**vii.**

In this universe, Eddie Kaspbrak is dead.

A monster clown stabbed him (and Richie Tozier’s heart) through the chest, threw him about, before he died beneath a rotting house.

In this universe, Richie Tozier mourns him every day. There are no Patronuses to make things better, no turtles, no superheroes.

Just Richie and his grief.

He learns to live with it, one step at a time, until one day, he sees a discarded inhaler at the playground near his house and doesn’t feel the familiar twinge anymore.

Richie looks skyward. And smiles.

**viii.**

In this universe, Regina “Richie” Tozier meets Beverly Marsh first. They’re both outcasts for different reasons, and she spots Bev smoking behind the cafeteria when they’re supposed to be in Chemistry.

“Didn’t you sleep with the entire school?” Richie says, tugging at the ends of her curly ponytail.

Beverly raises one eyebrow. “Didn’t you bite Henry Bowers’ dick when he slipped a roofie into your beer?”

“Touché.” Richie salutes her cigarette at the other girl. “You come here often?”

Beverly grins widely, and they’re inseparable after that. They’ve been neighbors since the third grade, but they’ve never had much reason to talk until today.

Nothing much changes, actually.

Except now, Beverly has a room to clamber into when Alvin Marsh tries to slip under her sheets again. Except now, Beverly becomes ‘Bev’ and Richie becomes ‘Chee.’ Except now, Richie has someone to hold her back when Greta Keene ‘whispers’ in third period about Richie being a cock-biting slut. Except now, she’s got someone to braid her hair into a pretty crown when Eddie Kaspbrak _finally_ grows a pair and asks her out.

(She tries to pay Bev back in kind when Ben Hanscom asks her out two months later, but she only ends up twisting Bev’s hair into one big knot, and sooner or later, they have no other choice but to hack it all off. Bev loves her new look anyway, and she gives Richie a big smack on the cheek for it.)

Beverly’s her maid of honor, years later, at hers and Eddie’s wedding. One hour before she becomes Mrs. Kaspbrak, Richie tosses a pack of smokes at Beverly and motions to the back of the church.

“I thought you quit? Eddie’s asthmatic, isn’t he?”

Richie rolls her eyes. “One more for good time’s sake won’t hurt him. Now come on, I need my fix.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes before Beverly snorts, completely un-ladylike.

“What?”

Bev shakes her head, leaning it against the cool brick. “Nothing. It’s just … I’m lucky, you know. To live in a universe where you’re my best friend.”

Richie isn’t crying. Really, she isn’t. She swipes at her eyes messily before shoving her glasses on again. To her left, Bev is surreptitiously pressing against the corners of her eyes as well, and Richie laughs, loud and proud, letting the crisp Autumn air fill her lungs because she’s said the exact same thing before, only drunker, with vomit in her hair and beer dripping down her front.

“C’mon, Hanscom. I’m ready to let Spaghetti Man make an honest woman out of me.”

**ix.**

It’s raining.

Some asshole is shooting up Eddie’s school, and rain is beating down so hard on the roof that Eddie stupidly thinks for a moment that the faraway gunshots could almost pass for raindrops themselves.

He hears a girl shriek, then – _Bang!_

Eddie shrinks further behind the library table he’s been using as a shield for the last ten minutes. In the dark of the room, he can just make out a bespectacled boy crouched by some shelves, muttering darkly to himself.

Footsteps come to a stop outside the double doors.

Eddie crosses his fingers hard, and prays to any and every god out there that whoever it is moves on.

The doors click open.

_Shit, shit, shit._

“Come out and play, children,” the shooter giggles. He’s got an oddly high-pitched voice, almost clown-like, and Eddie’s breathing speeds up as the shooter cocks his shotgun one more time. “I know you’re in here. I can _smeeeeeeeell_ your fear.”

He giggles again when he hears someone a few shelves down whimper, and Eddie’s hands curl into fists.

If he’s going down, he’s going down fighting.

The shooter steps closer to his hiding place. Eddie reaches for the steel ruler he’d nicked from the Math lab for this very purpose. He clutches it like a spear, like a lifeline, and tries not to think about his impending death.

“Hello, you.”

He looks up and into a painted face. The shooter is wearing a fucking clown suit, of all things, and he giggles madly as he aims the gun at Eddie’s face.

“Time to float!” he declares cheerfully, whatever the fuck that means, and Eddie can’t move, all his earlier courage fizzing out like a wet firecracker. 

He shuts his eyes.

It's muffled as they sink into the carpet, but in the heavy silence of the library, Eddie hears the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps all the same.

" _HEY, FUCKFACE!_ "

The gun goes off.

By some fucking miracle, Eddie is still alive. 

When he opens his eyes, the shooter is grappling with the bespectacled boy for the gun. His shot had gone wide, blasting Mr. Watson’s huge globe into pieces, and maybe it’s the sight of the boy fending for all of them, or the fact that he’s just been given a second chance at life, but Eddie stands and kicks the man’s back as hard as he can.

_“BEEP-BEEP, MOTHERFUCKER!”_ he yells, stabbing the man’s side in an area he just _knows_ – after years of staring at medical charts – is fatal.

The sharp end slices through skin like butter, and the shooter falls to the ground, staring unbelievingly at the spot where Eddie’s ruler protrudes like a weird metal flag. The bespectacled boy kicks the shooter’s face for good measure, prying the shotgun from his fingers.

Within a few minutes, the man is dead and the only sound left in the library is Eddie’s harsh breaths ringing in his ears.

“Well, that was long overdue,” the boy finally says. “Get it? Because we’re … in a … library … _nope._ ”

He turns white and vomits all over the ugly tartan carpet, just as the police come storming in.

Eddie and the boy are hailed as heroes and bundled into shock blankets. He can barely believe the turn of events himself. He stares at the blood drying under his nails and thinks of his mother.

Sonia Kaspbrak will _most definitely_ pitch a fit.

“Hey,” the boy across him croaks. They’d had to stitch his forehead up, but he is otherwise unharmed. “Nice moves, Eddie.”

“You know me?”

“’Course I do, Eds. You’re the only boy in our year who’s been excused from PE since the first grade.”

Eddie blushes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are.”

The boy extricates one of his long limbs from the mass of blankets he’s under. “My name’s Richie Tozier. I’ve been in love with you since you gave me a Spiderman band-aid three years ago from that stupid fanny pack of yours. You doing anything on Saturday?”

**x.**

In this universe, Eddie Kaspbrak leaves his ring on Myra’s bedside table before he goes home. It’s a pretty shitty thing to do, but if there’s one thing they’ve agreed on in the last ten years, it’s that they both deserve more than a half-baked marriage. She even lets him kiss her on the cheek one last time.

In this universe, Eddie goes to the Chinese restaurant, sees Richie Tozier, and feels twenty-seven years’ worth of suppressed feelings come back in a heady rush. He keeps it to himself, though, even as Richie keeps finding excuses to touch him and hold him close.

In this universe, Eddie hurls a spear at Pennywise and _survives_. He wills his eyes to stay open, to be as light as possible when his friends drag him out of Neibolt, and only collapses when they’re all safely outside, clutching Stanley’s hand like it’s a lifeline.

In this universe, Eddie Kaspbrak bolts upright in bed.

He clutches at the bandages on his chest, panic overtaking him for a second as he regains his bearings. Slowly, he remembers where he is.

He’s in Derry Hospital.

They defeated It. They’re alive. _He’s_ alive.

His eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, and his breathing slows as he takes in the sight of Ben dozing on the sofa with Beverly, one arm wrapped around her protectively, even in sleep. Mike had disappeared before he’d nodded off to buy everyone some food. Stan and Bill are at the airport for their wives; they’re all staying until Eddie recovers because “L-l-losers fucking stick t-t-together, Eddie, quit your whin-whin ... fucking w-w-whining.”

And Richie –

Richie is right beside him, fingers a few inches away from his, almost as if he’d wanted to hold Eddie’s hand before he’d chickened out and fallen asleep.

He remembers everything now.

He remembers Richie kissing him deeply under that stupid house, blood turning his mouth into an ugly slash of red, telling him to _stay awake, motherfucker, or I’m marrying fucking Myra instead, you hear me_. Remembers hurling that spear at that fucking clown because he’d seen Richie in pain, and he can't even remember the last time he'd been that fucking _angry_ because _no one_ can fucking mess with Richie, not under his watch. Remembers swearing an oath by a river, glass cutting into his palm and Richie’s hand firmly clutching his. Remembers Richie sneaking into his room at two in the morning with stacks of comics before he’d moved away, the two of them crammed together in Eddie’s tiny bed, trying not to think about red balloons and little boys who disappeared down drains.

He remembers loving Richie Tozier long before he understood it was love.

“Eds?”

Richie blinks at him sleepily. His cheek is marked with pillow lines, and he groans as he stretches, bones creaking.

Before he can think too much about it, Eddie reaches for the scruff of Richie’s bloodstained jacket and kisses him.

He’s more awake than he’d been in Neibolt, and he remembers to take note of the way Richie’s eyes widen before slipping shut; of Richie’s hands flailing about before finally settling on Eddie’s thighs, anchoring them both; of the almost-desperate way Richie moves against him, and because it’s them, because it’s _always_ been them, Eddie understands the underlying message: _so fucking relieved, you’re a fucking idiot Eddie Kaspbrak, my idiot now, never letting you go again, I love you, I love you, I love you._

When they break apart, Richie simply leans his forehead against Eddie’s for a while, eyes still shut.

“What was that for?”

Eddie shrugs. “Beats telling you I fucked your mom, right?”

Richie laughs, then, breathy and relieved. There are tears leaking out of the edges of his eyes, and Eddie brushes them away gently with the pad of his thumb.

Eddie watches Richie toe off his sneakers and practically drags him into his hospital bed, careful to avoid the tubes hooked into the back of his hand, and they rearrange themselves until they’re curled up together, his good cheek pressed into Richie’s chest. He listens to the sound of Richie’s strong, beating, _working_ heart, and he knows for a fact that even if he falls asleep again, he will wake surrounded by the people he loves most in this world.

“You okay, Eds?” Richie rubs his back lazily, already half-asleep.

Soon, Mike will return with kung pao chicken and fortune cookies, and everyone will chide him for forgetting the soy sauce. He’ll meet Audra and Patty for the first time, and Bill will probably stutter and blush, but Eddie will love him for it, the same way they’ve all loved him since they were children splashing about in greywater. Stan will roll his eyes from the corner, especially at Ben and Beverly for _only getting it on now? Please, I’ve known since she helped us steal supplies for you_.

And Richie? Richie will still be his.

Eddie nods, more contented than he has been in twenty-seven years.

“We’re all okay.”

In this universe, Eddie Kaspbrak closes his eyes with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. For those unfamiliar with the Harry Potter universe:  
> * The Patronus Charm is a defensive spell that produces a smoke-like, silvery guardian (an animal that represents you the most) or a bright ball of silver light that protects you against most Dark Creatures. It can only be performed successfully if the witch/wizard thinks of a particularly happy memory before casting the spell.  
> * A Dementor is a hooded creature that preys on negativity and grief. Inspired by J.K. Rowling's struggle with depression, they suck out your soul by giving you the 'Dementor's Kiss,' and force you to relieve your worst memories while doing so.
> 
> 2\. Of course I had to sneak in Eddie's iconic "BEEP-BEEP, MOTHERFUCKER" line somewhere in there. It is known.
> 
> 3\. Everything belongs to Stephen King, okay. I'm just rolling around in his sandbox and acting like I know shit.
> 
> 4\. In case you didn't read the opening note, I'll say it again sksksk: your creative criticisms, kudos, thoughts, and whatnot will DEFINITELY be appreciated!~ leave one (or all of them) below to make this sleep-deprived potato very happy indeed!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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